Standards
by Draco-Zelda
Summary: A story about Terri's slow cave in to mental insanity. TERRI POV FIC Please read
1. Requirements

Standards

Chapter one: Requirements

Perfection. That's all I was trying to achieve, I never wanted to hurt him. I was just trying to shield him from the truth. All of this was just to protect him; he never knew how much I was actually defending him.

Him, the poor weak man who I had spent the last seven or so months lying to-no, caring to his lack thereof emotional threshold. Did he ever know how many times I had to run to the bathroom to what he thought was to puke my guts out from sterotypical morning sickness just to cry my eyes out. The guilt was physically and emotionally taking its toll on me before he even caught whiff of my great scheme.

That Quinn girl…she promised me, swore that she was going to help me. I was desperate and we would both gain from it. Her baby would be healthy and have _two _loving _adult _parents around it. Not those two emotionally challenged football jug-heads that she decided cheat on. She screwed me over, kept on going back on her word and then coming back like I would forgive her.

If I had been just a bit more confident, a bit surer…maybe I could have said no like she deserved. Life doesn't let you fumble around until you've made your surefire decision. I couldn't back out even if I had wanted to, and believe me there were moments I would have taken that option.

However, contradicting what I just said, I could have never told him. I was going to, but he looked so hopeful…so happy…happier than I had seen him since we first met in high school, I just couldn't crush those hopes he had.

If I had only knew then that he had a little redhead woman on the side, probably pushing him farther away from me and closer to her, I tried so hard to break them up, but she had casted her spell on him long after I noticed the change.

The stride in step was so confident, the way he spoke was not him, it was her controlling, and manipulating every action he did. He wasn't the man I married, not even damn close to it by the time I tried to ring him back in.

My attempts were in vain, he couldn't listen to reason even if it had been smacked in his face after she told him things. I don't know the exact words, but they were probably similar to 'she shouldn't be able to talk you like that' Oh like you know how to talk to a man you doe eyed family wrecker? 'How do you let her treat you like that?' For your information I treat my husband fine, you just twist the situation to pleasure yourself.

I hate her, I hate her, and I hate her! She ruined my happiness, if she wasn't whispering words into his ear he wouldn't have gotten suspicious and maybe I could have gotten Quinn's baby and pulled off the classic all American family without any suspicion. However, she just had to twist my husband into a man he is not.

"Terri, are you okay?" Howard asks, shooting me a sympathetic look. Howard is such a nice man, the only one who actually listens to my side of the story without judging me; everyone else thinks that I'm crazy. Well, except Kendra, but she was the one who gave me this great idea so I don't suppose she counts.

I put some dish soap on a store rack absentmindedly. "Yes Howard, but I would like if I got promoted to manager like I deserve." I say, skirting the issue he actually wants to talk to me about. Lately work has been my only release during the day, after I go back to Kendra's home and lock myself in my room. Thinking about what he could be doing, what _she's _tricking him to do.

Every day blends into another, what's the point of living if you have nothing left? I lost my husband, lost his trust, and lost our life together. That's all I wanted all those years, I could have had anyone in high school. I was popular and smart. Guys were just lining up to me just to stare at my cheerleading outfit, but I chose him. Doesn't he figure that the girl who risked her standards and popularity to be with him loves him more than the one who was desperate enough to be with anyone?

Howard doesn't say anything as we continue to put stock in the store. Silently I work, trying to get my mind off him. It's not going to do me any good to keep on thinking of the past, I can't change what happened. All I can do is continue with my life and hope that someday I can heal the spots of my heart he burned.

"Excuse me ma'am! I would like my total please." A rude brunette lady with her husband and two children says, her eyes glaring at me as though I should worship the idea that the customer is always right. I resist the urge to smack her head against the register and smile sweetly back.

"Why of course, it's $34.13" I say in a sickly sweet tone, the kind that screams how much of a witch I can actually be when I try. However, I don't bite unless I'm provoked, I wouldn't have threatened that doe eyed harlot unless she tried to take him from me, which she did.

She looks to her husband. "Honey, your card please." And he passes her his card, I feel a twinge of envy deep inside me, she has the life I wanted for us. Why does she have what I don't? I'm not a bad person, I know I'm not, so why does karma constantly try to throw me around and make my life awful?

"Swipe here, please." I gesture to the debit machine, my voice infested with venom that I can't control. My jealousy is too passionate; my anger to the world is too violent to hold back. I used to be able to. That isn't a time I can go back to.

She smirks and swipes the card, pressing her code in and getting the said items she bought. She grabs her bags and begins walking out of the store, I manage to stiff out a "have a nice day!" In a pretend sweet voice, something that I could fake so easily before but now takes so much effort.

I look at my wristwatch, sighing with relief when I realize that I'm off in two minutes which is close enough for me to say that I have to go without getting docked off. I make my way to the backroom and grab my keys and purse, making my way to the old clunker in the back otherwise known as my car.

Sure I love my luxuries as much as the next woman, but it's not like I can afford anything other than this slow moving piece of crap at the moment, but I did add a pink pair of dice near the rearview mirror and seat coverings of the same colour to make it look a bit better. That doesn't change the fact that the red colouring on it is beginning to scrape off the sides and there is a nasty gash on the door where some a-hole decided to park a little too close to it and dent it.

I scramble around in my purse for my pocket powder mirror; I open it up to see the damage on my face. Groaning with tiredness I look at the dark circles under my eyes and the dryness of my lips that I desperately cover with a lipgloss that only seems to make the cracks on the skin worse. I never used to look this dried out, this weak, before I used to look like I had life in me, but now it looks like it's draining out bit by bit.

Slamming the mirror shut I shove the key into the ignition and pull out of the parking lot, making my way to Kendra's home.

My phone rings just as I make my way to the driveway, my face brightens when I see the caller ID. It's him.

Maybe he'll take me back, maybe he realised how bad that redheaded witch actually is and realised that he needed his caring, loving wife back who would do anything for him. Maybe that's it-no, it _has _to be it. Then we'll be happy, we'll be the perfect all American family again.

"Hello?" I ask, trying to make my voice obilvious, like I don't know who's on the other end. If I wasn't so good at hiding things I probably would have screamed in excitement and hurt his ears, but I'm not that mean.

"Terri, it's me, Will." He says back. Yes, yes, of course I know it's you. His voice is tired to; he must have been fighting with her the poor thing.

I can barely contain my excitement, my happiness of just hearing his voice on the other end, knowing that I'm the one he's directing every word at. "How are you doing?" I ask, finally just giving in to the happiness in my voice.

"Um, fine. Have you checked your mail today?" He asks, clearly confused because that little doe eyed harlot has his emotions in a wreck. Why is he asking me if I checked my mail? Did he send me a letter asking for me back? Oh how romantic!

"Oh, no I haven't! I'm in the driveway at Kendra's right now though, do you want me to?" I ask cheerily, oh he wants me back!

"Yeah, I thought you already got them…" He says as I get out of the car with my purse and go over to the mail box, expecting a hand written letter with perhaps a poem romantically expressing his love for me.

When I get to it though, I get something much different.

"What is this?" I ask him, looking at the words _**Divorce notice**_with a confused expression on my face, the happiness fading from my voice and leaving me with a much more perplexed one in its place.

"A divorce notice, Terri, I think its better that we go our separate ways." He says, though the words don't make their way to my brain as easily.

"You're with her! You're with that witch, aren't you! She's tricking you; lying to you I know it! Believe me!" I'm screaming at this point, something flipped on inside of me. This was not happening; I was not losing him again!

"Terri, Emma has nothing to do with our problems." He tries to calmly explain to me, like I'm supposed to be another one of his retarded drug addict students. I will not be talked to like I'm some fifteen year old.

"She did something to you! I want you back! Don't leave me, please!" I beg to him, feeling hot tears fall down my cheeks and onto my face.

"I'm sorry, but I can't look past this. I'm sure you'll find someone right for you." He attempts to coax me, but it isn't going to work.

"No, Will plea-"the line goes dead and I'm left with a divorce notice and the pain of losing him all over again.

It can't be over, it just can't.

Some people would call me crazy for faking a pregnancy. Others would call me crazy for thinking that I'd get me husband back after faking said pregnancy. However, if you loved someone as much as I did, you'd be willing to do anything for them until you become a hollowed version of yourself. He doesn't realize how much I went through just to keep him happy, you might think it was wrong but it truly isn't.

I manage to make it into Kendra's guestroom without being noticed, running a hand through my hair I close the door and begin crying in hysterics, leaning my body to the cold wall as I sit on the bed.

I'm such an idiot. He's been under her spell for months; he wouldn't fall out of it so soon. Does he really think she cares for him, would be willing to take a bullet and defend him to the bloody end? I know she wouldn't, in fact I know she would get queasy at the sight of blood and faint while he dies.

If he only knew what a devil she was, (I mean, red _is _the color of the devil) then I could take the heartbreak he has and bring it back into something beautiful. Then we could start over, we could be happy again. I know he could if he just _woke up _from this illusion, this daydream that never ends.

That's when I have an idea. If I can't convince him with words, then maybe I should show him what freak he has decided to fall in lust with. Yes, he needs that extra push. Will was never good with realizing things or paying attention at all for that matter. Sometimes when I told him to get a carton of milk from the store he came back with a pack of gum and a confused expression when I ask him where said milk is.

Feeling the hot tears drip off my face like sweat and wiping my eyeliner from the mess that my face has become I reach into my purse, slipping my hand in between tubes of lipstick, gum wrappers, and the odd coins that managed to slip out of my wallet until I make it to my cell phone. Feeling a ping in my heart where he used to be that is infested in pain I open it with a shaky breath.

There is someone I need to call. She was so understanding and kind to me. Sure she was blunt but at least she understood a home wrecker when she saw one, plus it's not like she was trying to take my husband, actually I was sure she wasn't. Dialing the number I hold my breath as the phone rings, hoping that she will answer to my call, and prepared to take the voicemail if it comes.

"If this is about my choice not to have a green card anymore I've already told you Nazis that people should know my face!" She says on the other line, I grin as I hear the harsh tones in her voice. That underlining confidence to every breath she takes, I think that's the thing I'm most jealous of.

"Sue Sylvester? It's me…Terri." I say quietly on the other end. She waits a moment, probably scanning her mind to see where my name rings a bell to.

"The fat girl who Will Schuester and his garbage infested hair dumped?" She asks, I blink back the tears for a second and know she's just joking.

"Pregnant-well…was pregnant. Anyways I was wondering if you would like to collaborate on a project to get that redheaded witch out of my husband's life." I ask, already feeling intimidated by her voice as she responds.

"I know who you're talking about; I'm guessing my plan to get her married didn't work well at all." Sue says in a monotone, I can hear her drumming her fingers against the wood of her desk on the other line purposely loud. I can't bore her, not when she's the best schemer I have ever seen.

Gulping in pain of the memories where I tried to break them up and it backfired horribly in my face I continue. "Yeah, it didn't turn out as well as I planned. However, I do have one cooked up of my own if you want to hear it." I then hold my breath, hoping that I've won her over to my side.

There's a moment of silence, a tension in the air that I can sense fully before she finally decides to respond.

"Well, Cinderella, why not tell me it?"

~Chapter end

A/N: Hey you guys! Shecka here and this is my first Glee multi-chaptered fan-fiction so I hope you enjoy it!  
As you can see this is a Terri POV fiction and it will be dealing with her mental issues and if it goes right it will become very interesting. I haven't really read many Terri fan-fictions where she is the main character but in the ones I have read in different series Terri never gets redemption which is understandable (I mean, she did fake a pregnancy) so I wanted to show what was going through her mind. Please review and I hope to get the new chapter out soon, I have a very vague idea of how the story is going to go but I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I do have two things promised.

1: A Terri song number. However, it won't be normal Glee type of singing and stuff; it'll be a bit…dark. I'll give you guys a hint every chapter (hopefully) before it comes up so you guys can guess.

2: More Sue, I always thought her and Terri were such a great team, so why not explore that a bit more?

Anyway, I'll leave you to chew on that.

~Shecka


	2. Obsession

Standards

Chapter two: Obsession

If you would have told me that by the day after I made that one phone call to Sue that I would be in the same building as my husband I would call you a cruel human for even bringing him up. However, since it is happening I must say I'm nervous as hell that he's treading the same halls as me. Opening my compact I check my mascara so it isn't running, nope, thankfully it's still curling my eyelashes up in thick bunches. Nevertheless my lips _do _look a bit cracked so I apply another coat of lip-gloss. Just in case I see him I want to look my best so he can see what he's missing.

"What are we going to do first Sue? Did you like my idea with making her fall in vomit so he can hear her excessive cursing, or was the pushing her off the building a better one to you?" I ask like an eager puppy as Sue is running on her treadmill, seeming to never stop running even as she talks to me.

"None of those my heartbroken princess, those ideas are mediocre for Sue Sylvester. We are going to create some friction between these two lovebirds to break Will Schuester so he can fall back into your arms." She says, arms swinging up and down while running in the same spot. I feel slightly offended that she rejected my ideas on the spot, but hopeful that she'll think of a better one for us.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to hurt Will, but if this is the only way to make him come back then I will certainly not get a little pain in the way of our love. It'll make him feel better in the end since I'll make all the hurt go away after. I'm truly sorry Will, but it's really for your own good.

Sue then stands up and begins working on her arms by holding up weights. "Here's what we're going to do Cinderella; you talk to that redhead man stealer while I insult Will Schuester's elf infested head to create some tension. Make her believe that Will is cheating on her, do you understand?"

I nod, and then suddenly realize the flaw in the plan that could make it unravel in front of our eyes. "I like the idea Sue, I really do, but what if she asks for proof?" I ask, hoping she has a solution to said problem.

Sue suddenly drops the weights; a wince worthy sound erupts from them as they drop to the ground, and goes to her desk and rummages through it until she finds a tape recorder with a look of self inflicted pride on her face. "This, my dear princess, is proof of his dishonorable, scandalous sleepovers with April Rhodes and the coach of Vocal Adrenaline. If she doesn't believe you then I do have quite the plan for them." She then stows it away for good use in the future.

I feel a slight pressure on my lip where my teeth are biting down on them angrily. So he's been cheating on the witch too? I feel a bitter pleasure at the thought of her being the bystander as he leaves her behind but experience sadness at the idea of him being entangled in the sheets with some other woman. I quickly shake off the image of him being with any other woman besides me and nod.

"You know your mission; I wish you luck, Juliet." Sue directs me to the door; I get out of the room and begin to make my way to the office of one Emma Pillsbury, smirking with the idea of sweet, sweet revenge that was about to be laid upon her.

I suppose if I wanted to make a real entrance I would have bashed the see through glass that feebly blocks her room from the outside room. However, since I don't want to get into a pesky lawsuit I settle with storming in and taking a seat directly in front of that doe-eyed harlot as she is cleaning off a new set of pens.

"Hello, Emma." I say, putting on my fakest smile while still trying to look good. She looks up and her eyes automatically widen, scared of me now? You deserve every fear, every nightmare for ruining me and Will's relationship.

"T-Terri! How are you doing?" Her eyes are full of fear, and her mouth is half open as she looks up into my eyes, flinching as I raise my eyebrows. She may look innocent, but that is all a ploy to drag you in.

I feel my lips stretching as my smile reveals my pearly white teeth, making me not only look happier, but frightening as well. "I am doing well, thank you for asking. However I suppose I should inform you of some horrible news I heard." My voice presses with fake concern; this news isn't horrible to me. Sure, I'm mad that Will has been with more than one woman since he left me, but nothing I can't fix when we're back together.

She adjusts a pen on the table, as if this is some sort of chess game and she's advanced towards the enemy, me. "Horrible news? Now what could that be?" She asks, although it's more pathetic than questioning in my opinion.

I place my hand on hers, trying to seem like I actually care about her, though to be honest it's just so I can see her flinch at the contact. "There's no easy way to put it," actually, there is, it would be something along the lines of you taking my man and him fighting back, but you don't need to know that one. "But…"

Biting my lip, I retreat the contact for dramatic effect and reach into my purse for a tissue. "You might need this." I pass it to her, but she's already getting out a box of tissues for herself, that's a germ freak for you.

"N-No thanks, I have one myself." She gets out a tissue and keeps it in her hands, waiting for me to unload the bomb onto her.

I can hardly hide my smile as I continue. "It's about William…he's been cheating on you with two other women." I finally admit, having to bite my tongue to not break out into uncontrollable laughter.

Her eyes become even bigger; I didn't even know they could become literally as wide as saucers. "N-No, you're lying!" She stammers out, my eyebrows incline inwards and I shake my head.

"No, I'm not, Emma. I didn't want you to be hurt by him like I was." I respond sympathetically, trying to put my hand back on her hands. However, she automatically rejects the touch by balling her hands into tight fists.

"He was hurt by you, don't get the facts wrong." She mumbles, voice shaking with a nervous tremble, I could see the slight shake in the fists she made and, to my pleasure, she was now staring at her lap in desperation, trying to avoid my gaze. "Please, just leave."

I threw the tissue on top of her fists. "Certainly, just thought I'd tell you." Then I make my way out of the room.

Checkmate.

"She didn't believe you?" Sue asks, walking into her office and taking a seat behind her desk with a confident stride in her step.

I shake my head. "She said she didn't, but she was shaking in fear, so that counts for something, right?"

She looks me straight in the eye. "Of course," Sue says, getting out the same tape recorder and putting it in her pocket. "Cinderella, come with me." She proceeds to make her way out of the room with an air to her that commands respect; I follow behind her diligently, scarcely looking any direction except hers.

Finally we reach a room where the morning announcements are heard by the whole school she shoves a nerdy sixteen year old boy out of the way. "Get out of the way, acne boy, we have to start some scandals." The boy gets out of the way, and good thing he did too or else Sue would have pushed him out.

Sue takes full grasp of the microphone and turns it on. "Hello students and teachers. Today I would like to reveal to you a recording of one Will Schuester's appalling and shocking behavior with not only roadside tramps but also other teachers." A line of worry creases my face, this is going to hurt him, but if it gets him back then who really cares how much it hurts because I can fix it.

Then she takes out the recording and clicks the start button on it, a conversation between some woman (the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, but who really cares?) and Will, and pretty soon it becomes intimate. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sounds of a filthy woman touching my Will.

Just block it, Terri. He was only trying to hurt that redheaded witch; he would never do anything to purposely hurt you if it was out of his control.

Finally the tape ends, Sue's voice concludes the announcement. "Oh, and I would like to inform the elves that are baking cookies in the copious amounts of product Will Schuester uses that they ought to escape while they can. No one is safe!"

A click is heard as the microphone is turned off. Sue gets up and begins to make her way out of the room. "Thanks for helping me with that, Juliet." Then she makes her way down the hallway, owning every step she takes.

I smile; he has to come back to me now. He just has to.

Being the curious woman I am I can am barely holding in my anticipation as I wait for Will to finish his class so he can finally realize what a huge mistake he made in choosing the witch over me. He should be thankful, most women wouldn't take back a man after they've left her but I'm nice. I'll take him back because that is just proof of what a good person I actually am.

I spy on him through the window of his Spanish class, trying to keep far enough so he won't see me while still getting a nice glance at him. His hair is still full of pricy products and for the most part he looks the same except now that he's wearing clothes in a darker pallet and instead of a usual sweater vest he's wearing a jacket, something I never really liked but I'm willing to ignore until we're back together.

He seems to be rather phased with Sue's announcement of his cheating ways; the way he's attempting to keep a composed nature about him while talking to the class but his eyes always failing to keep up with the façade is proof. His eyes are his giveaway; they've always been and always will be.

It's only a matter of time before the bell rings and I see him, only a few moments until he comes back at full speed into my arms and we're happy again. It's just only a matter of time…

I look to the back of the class, teeth gritting as a few teenagers are gossiping about what just happened. They couldn't wait until the end of class when my Will is reunited with me, his wife, again?

Delinquents, all of them, those kids don't give a damn about what I have to go without when I'm with him and he constantly spreads his affection to them. Seriously, he wondering why I was thinking he was having an affair with one of the little ingrates? Considering the amount of time he spent with them I wouldn't be surprised if he was, I'll just have to reprogram him when we're together again.

I begin to chew on my lip, waiting for the bell to ring so I can finally be with him. Once the bell sounds a sudden flood of butterflies fills my stomach and my tongue becomes dry with anticipation. Oh god, I hope he doesn't want to talk and wants to give me a passionate embrace and kiss because I don't think I can hold back anymore.

After the flood of impudent delinquents' rushes out of the classroom I see him seated at his desk, smoothening out my shirt I take in a breath and walk in the classroom. His jaw drops when I take a seat in front of him. "Hello Will," I say, voice threatening to crack with the words I'm saying.

"Terri, what are you doing here?" He asks his voice confused and cold, a painful façade that I will have to put up with. Obviously he wants to play hard to get, well then let's place this game.

"I'm here to take you back…" I mumble, he's about to say something coldhearted again but I manage to cut him off. "Don't try to fight it, Will. We're made for each other, you know it and I know it, we can get that feeling back!" I desperately plead with him, knowing he just needs that little push so we can be together. Together forever…

He looks at me, stunned for a second. "Terri, we're getting a divorce." He says, a blow to my heart, but he can't mean it, right? "We had our chance; it didn't work out for us, why can't you just leave me and Emma alone?"

Suddenly a flood of emotion explodes. "You cheated on her with two other women, how can you say you care about her?" I ask, fists shaking. I'm patient but I thought he'd be a bit more understanding.

He shakes his head. "Terri, please don't tell me you had a hand in Sue's scheme to get me out of this school." He says, what is he saying? Her scheme was to get me back with my loving husband.

My mouth hangs a little open as I stare at him, confused. "What are you talking about? I never wanted you to get out of this school." I say, he shakes his head and runs a hand through his curly hair.

"Terri, all Sue wants is me out of this school. Whatever she told you is a lie. I really didn't think you'd have a part in this…I thought you were better than that." He says with a sigh and groan, my heart is broken right in front of him. I can't let that happen, no, he can't just leave me now.

I lean over the table and force my lips onto his; the smooth feeling of them almost overwhelms me as the spark comes back. He has to feel this, he just has to. This is real; this is love, why can't he figure that out?

Suddenly he pushes me back, wiping his lips he points to the door. "Leave me alone, and don't call me." He says with a look so cold, so cruel, that I have to blink back the tears. No, he couldn't have just said that. There is no way.

"You'll come back…I know you will…" I say, standing up and staring at him, closing my jaw shut and feeling the taste of his lips on my own.

"No…I won't." He insists and points to the door, he has to be lying; there is no way that he wants this to end. That spark and that that sense of urgency, he had to have felt it.

I give one last look to him, and then run out of the room, finally releasing the tears I was holding back so desperately as I run down the hallway.

He had to has to be lying.

He just has to be.

~Chapter end.

A/N: Dear god, why did I just finish this chapter? I was giving me until the end of the week before I started procrastinating and not finish it!

Anyways here is the next chapter, I put a lot of effort into it. I know the plot may move a bit quickly but if I slowed it down it would have really just made it seem like filler. I really hope you guys enjoy it! I tried my best and I think it's decent.

As usual, please review and such, I thrive off good reviews!

~Shecka


	3. Desperation

Standards

Chapter three: Desperation

I don't remember how long I sat there in my car, tears spilling down my cheeks in a way that a storm would hit a city. I can feel my makeup slip down my face and my face become burning hot in a way that can only be from pain of the heart and I don't even care about the fact that I probably look like a mess and there are probably a dozen teenagers laughing at me in the parking lot. I just don't care anymore.

I was so sure, so confident that he would run into my arms, pull me into a tight embrace and stroke my hair with his fingers before kissing me passionately, the perfect storybook ending, I was so sure. It couldn't have just all gone to hell right in front of my very own eyes, it just couldn't have.

There has to be a logical side to this, what did I do wrong? Sure I was a bit abrasive, but he just needed that nudge. He's become too damn independent for his own good; that redhead woman…that no good harlot. He's ruined him and I can't fix him, no matter how hard I try he doesn't want me.

Will, even thinking of the name, makes me break back into tears after I've taken all the effort to try to build myself up. His name is like a boulder in my fortitude of inner strength, bashing me down in a single blow. Oh why, why, why do you have to push me away? It's too late to save you now. I screwed up my last chance to be with you big time, and now we both have to live with the consequences.

I don't know exactly how long I had been crying for, but the moment I see Sue in full track uniform walk out the doors I know I have to confront her. She didn't even want to help me, she just wanted to hurt him and that's unforgivable! Will, I don't care if you never want to see me again; I won't allow this woman to overpower you. If you can't have a life without me then I might as well help you make due with it!

"Sue!" I shout, getting out of my car and wiping my tears with a spare tissue. Now is not the time for tears, I can cry when I'm back at Kendra's house, but right now I have to get revenge for him, revenge for me.

"Oh, hello Cinderella-" Sue starts with the pointless name calling, I'm not in the mood for this crap right now.

"Don't you dare call me any sort of princess name! You never wanted to help me, didn't you?" I say, voice shaking from fear that I'm standing up to someone so mentally and physically stronger than me, but I hope that she assumes that it's from anger that is also driving me to the edge.

She gives me a stare, and then snorts. "Yes _Princess _I never wanted to fix your Prince-or, more fitting, _frog _problem. All I want is Schuester and his curly locks from some freaky extraterrestrial planet out of my school and, more importantly, out of my cheerios budget. Good job for figuring it out." She says her voice so sure that I almost flinch at the certainty of her words.

Taking in a breath, I finally speak. "Sue, you're a nasty, vile witch from west! The only reason why no one has thrown water on you is because no one wants to see your ugly body under those unfashionable clothes! Sure my husband's hair could use a lot less product but yours looks like someone took a chainsaw to it, so why don't you get on your broom and fly back to your castle with those monkeys?"

I then proceed to withhold my breath, knowing that what I just said may be the very last thing my lips utter. For a moment she stares at me in shock, but the phased expression is soon replaced with a cocky smirk. "From what I've seen, he isn't your anything, wish you luck finding a castle to wait up in until your prince charming comes by Princess." She then turns around and walks over to her car. The emotion suddenly flows back to me and I end up running to my car so she doesn't see my crying.

However, when I have the opportunity to start bawling my eyes out like a three year old girl the emotions pumped up in me suddenly stop. She isn't worth my tears; she isn't worth an ounce emotion I've got in me. Sue is just a big bully, and bullies only want a reaction from you. There wasn't a war to fight with her because if you got into a fight with Sue, you already let her win.

Shaking my head free of all the negative feelings I make my way to Kendra's home, if anyone can help me it's her.

Kendra is the one who will never judge herself, but will always give you the truth if you need it; I guess that's why I always go to her if I need help. As she always says; I may have gotten the beauty, but she got the brains and the beauty.

I open the door to the house, hearing the sounds of Kendra's husband putting her three little monsters to bed while she sits on the couch, pouring red wine for herself and automatically making a glass for me. "Hey Terri-What's wrong?" She cuts herself off from the usual greeting, noticing my puffy eyes and obvious frown.

Without warning I feel the hot tears slip down my face once more, I manage to shake it off before sitting down on Kendra's couch, telling her the whole story of this awful day from start to finish with more than a few breakdowns in between, because the fact that it happened isn't the hard part to hear, repeating it is.

Kendra pours me my third glass of red wine and says. "Terri, you can do better than him, Will obviously just cares about redheads or something. I read in a magazine that men can sometimes go through these weird obsession phrases and become normal within a month or two. He'll be groveling back to your feet in no time, trust me." The way she speaks is so ensuring that I almost believe it. If he hadn't just rejected me outright then I might have just believed what she said.

Taking a sip of my wine I mumble back. "Kendra, I don't think it's just some obsession. I tried to kiss him…I felt the spark but obviously he didn't." I start to feel the intoxication of the drink, easing some of my troubles away.

"Sparks aren't important, what's important is that me and you get him back. Come on, it will be fun-"

"No. I-I already tried that, it didn't work." I try to explain to her that it's over; if it was a game then we obviously didn't play hard enough. We lost the game and the worse part is I don't exactly know why. "I think I need to go out for a bit Kendra…I'll talk to you in awhile…okay?" I ask her, getting up from my seat after finishing my glass, craving more of the beverage to make me feel slightly dizzy but much better.

"Look, Terri, you can do better than him. Call me when you need to be picked up from the bar, okay?" She shouts to me as I make it to the door, already knowing what I'm doing and thinking three steps ahead for me. I make a thumb up motion but still face the door as I open it and leave.

Even though I was drinking, it wasn't exactly in a bar setting, far from it. I grabbed three bottles of vodka and a few other key items on my way to one of those hotel rooms where those features with black-lights to reveal how much crap there is are filmed. I don't even care about the sounds of the people in the next room, obviously having a better time than me. I just open my alcoholic beverage and begin drinking in a slow but very steady manner. Not binging on the flavor but also not going so slow so that I don't feel the effects of the relaxing drink.

After the first bottle my tongue is tingling while my throat is numb, this is nearly good enough for tonight, I hit the second bottle with high hopes that this buzz will turn into a full on drunk knock out feeling soon enough.

It's when I hit empty on the second bottle that I really start to feel wasted, with my vision blurring I manage to miraculously grab another bottle and begin chugging it, forgetting all about pacing I plop myself on the bed and attempt to cram in as much alcohol as possible into my mouth. And after I finish it I begin to just close my eyes and feel the buzz work its way through my system, not feeling a single attachment to any names, places or things in my life. Just the coldness of my body against the soft cushions of the bed is all I need to feel attached to.

"Will…Will…Will" I test the name out on my tongue; it feels foreign as I forget the previous events of the days. I break into hysterical laughter once I realize that I'm free, free from all the awful emotions that I have been burdened with over the past couple of months. If I had only known getting this wasted would open a door of memory detachment I would have done it long ago.

For the next few hours I continue to embrace the intoxication, feeling so absolutely released from all my problems and laughing like a maniac on the sheets it's not until about eight in the next morning that I actually start to get glimpses of the day before. And what I see is all depressing; all of my release of my imprisonment has fade. Vodka could suppress my troubles, but they always come back at the worst of times. Now I have a pounding headache and a lifetime worth of depression.

I get out my phone and lazily press buttons on it, hoping to reach Will's contact number, I type out some message I can't even remember before sending it to him and walking over to the shower. My head pounding so hard I can't even turn on the light without pounding sounds retching me.

I lock the door and sit in the bathtub for awhile, some of the time I cry, some of the time I scream in anger. I don't know exactly how long I stay there, but my headache definitely did not fade while I was there.

How could I drop so low? What's the point of living if my life has nothing worthwhile to keep on going for? All these questions pass through my head, each one more viciously than the previous one but all coming to the same conclusion: There isn't a point to any of this, who has the right to say to say this life means anything?

That is when I open the door, grab one of my empty bottles and run back into the bathroom, locking the door more firmly this time. I throw the bottle on the counter, seeing as the shards break into a million pieces with a smile on my face. I make a move to the bathtub with a piece of the broken bottle and set the shower heat on the maximum hot setting, letting the stream fill the room as take the bottle shard and begin slicing my wrists, one by one.

Will Schuester.

That man is going to be my death, because he's all I ever wanted in my life.

~End Chapter

A/N: DRAMALLAMA! Jeez I've been writing a lot huh? I actually didn't even plan on starting this today, but our internet is currently down so I decided I should start working on this chapter and what do you know, the words just came.

I'm not sure how accurate I depicted some of the later scenes in this chapter (manly because I don't drink or commit self mutilation, thank god) but I did my best and what more can you ask from me? I would like to inform you that this is NOT the last chapter of the fan-fiction, far from it actually. So please wait for the next chapter and yes I know that this one was slightly shorter than the last chapters, but in my defense just as much plot was revealed so I think it's okay.

The last line in this story is quoted from the song "Shalott" By Emilie Autumn; this song I feel really connects to Terri and her emotions, so I decided to use one of my favorite lines to close this chapter. Also, Will will (awkward wording) be in the story later on, he probably will have one or two more appearance and disappear for awhile until a certain point much more later on.


	4. Consequences

Standards

Chapter Four: Consequences

For the people saying that you see a white light at the end of the tunnel when you're dying all I have to say is that the most I saw was an array of odd flashes of my life, but that was probably because of the hangover and steamy room. Either that or I didn't go far enough, but considering I was sure my hell on earth was going to end I think I went pretty damn far in my opinion.

I wake up in a hospital bed, my vision is still slightly blurred but my eyes squint open enough to see the white sheets and the boring off cream walls with a small TV in the corner along with a heart monitor and an array of other medical equipment beside me. That's enough to let me know that I'm not home.

Reaching my hand up to my forehead, I notice the IV that must have been stuck in me earlier when I was out, following this I see long vertical lines where I cut myself, using my other hand I trail it over the cut, feeling a slight twinge of pain when I press to hard on the freshly opened skin. I begin piecing the memories together from the previous night; the drinking, the cutting, the steamy room; all of it was a ploy to get out of this hellhole of my life. However, it doesn't seem like it worked.

For a minute I just stare at the cut, I had been so close to ending it all, releasing me from my imprisonment in this body, but not close enough to pass through this world into the next one.

It isn't until a doctor walks in that I stop looking at the damages from my self mutilation. "Hello, Miss Del Monaco. I see you're awake." He says, I glance at him, he looks like a regular college pushed white coat wearing doctor that you see in any hospital complete with a balding head and off grey hair.

"What happened?" I ask, covering my sliced wrists with a blush on my face, not wanting him to see the cut marks. I don't need people to see that, even though he's a doctor and probably knows all the dirty details.

He gives me a cold look. "Your suicide attempt happened, Miss Del Monaco. You should be lucky that your divorced husband, Will Schuester received your text message and managed to track you down. You sustained some minor injuries on your arms and stomach but you should be alright physically. However, it is your mental status that we are worried about here." He says in a tone that makes it very obvious that he personally doesn't care if I live or die. My mental status? What's going on?

"Excuse me?" I ask, pressing a note of politeness in my voice that's fake. "My mental status is perfectly fine." I tell him, I'm not going to be anyone's guinea pig for their psychological analysis. Just because I want to die doesn't mean I'm insane, it means that I'm practical enough to know that I'm just dead weight on the world at this point.

"Not what a suicide attempt tells us. Now, please tell me why you tried to kill yourself." He says, excuse me doctor but your bedside attentiveness leaves something huge to be desired, plus why do I need to tell a complete stranger why I believe there is no reason to live? He hasn't even told me his name!

I glare at him. "You haven't even told me your name and you have no business to know what was going through my mind at that time. Please leave me alone." My voice is shaking out of anger. These university bound ingrates are the worst, they think that they know everything and we're just their drones.

His eyes flicker an emotion that I just can't quite place. "I guess there will be enough time for you to talk to your psychiatrist at the asylum." He says. This makes me jolt upright in my bed, what asylum? What is going on?

"What the hell do you mean 'asylum'? I'm perfectly fine; it's this world that's screwed up!" I shout, but he doesn't even look into my eyes after he whispers something to one of the nurses. "What are you doing? Look at me!" I shout desperately, now he's suddenly retracting from me?

One of the nurses inserts something into one of the machines that I have attached to me. "No! Stop that! Stop that now!" I begin attempting to whack the nurse away, desperately trying to prevent the sleep haze that she's trying to start, but when I start feeling woozy I know that I've lost the war. My body relaxes into a deep sleep.

My eyes awaken once again, but this time I find myself in a white room. I don't mean just the usual cream white you see in houses, I mean blinding arctic white. I stare at myself; I'm in a very simple white uniform. An odd addition is the fact that my shoelaces have been removed from my shoes. There is a door in the corner with a very small see through window, I automatically run to it and begin screaming, begging for answers.

This obviously wasn't the hospital.

My fist pounds against the window; it's not one of the fragile glass ones so it doesn't break and shatter. A plastic thud sounds as my hand makes contact. Two men are walking down the hall chatting to each other. I make a bolder effort get their attention and pound harder on the glass.

"Hello! Hello!" I yell, even though my voice is strong in the room, it probably doesn't travel well past the wall. One of the men stops just shy of my door and bids farewell to his friend, then turns his attention to me.

He's ugly. No, I don't mean just plain unattractive, I mean repulsively ugly. The way his double chin jiggles and swiped back thinning dyed black hair only makes him look fatter than if he had just left it down, his features are sharp but the pounds on the side of his face outweighs the prominence of said features. It's not like he's old or actually even that fat, but the fact that his black suit is a size too tight and his belt creates a muffin top doesn't help his cause to look nice.

And yet he still has a mature nature about him, he's as ugly as hell but the way he carries himself is like the master of the house would. I take a few steps away as he injects a key into the door and turns it.

"Hello Terri." He says calmly, offering a hand to me that I don't accept. I have no idea who he is but I'm not touching that filthy hand of his. I have a bit more respect for myself than that thank you very much.

"Who are you and why do you know my name?" I ask, glaring at him as he retracts his handshake. With a swipe of his product induced hair (that looks awful on him) he chuckles; his voice is deep and carries a slight English accent which usually I would find attractive but on him is just creepy.

"I know your name because it is on my clipboard in my office. My name is Bryan Swalie and I am the head psychiatrist here." He says, although something seems to click out after he says psychiatrist. Oh god, this is an asylum, I'm not crazy, I'm really, really not! I don't need help from these fat, ugly assholes in lab coats!

My breaths quicken in anger. "I'm not insane!" I shriek, knowing that yelling probably was probably not my best idea to express that thought, but I don't care, I hate being called this insane girl because I'm smart enough to see when I should end my own life. I mean, it is my body, I should know what to do with it.

He places a hand on my shoulder, I automatically tense up. "I'm sure you aren't." Bryan says in a way that I guess was supposed to be comforting, but only sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. Although I'm glad he's not saying that I'm a mad girl. "We just need to keep you here for the next seventy-two hours, they call it suicide watch but let's just say it's a…a bit of a vacation for you."

I give him a long look; he hasn't given me reason not to trust him, though I can't shake off the feeling that something isn't right. Then again, it's not like being in an insane asylum is exactly right in the first place. "Well…what do I do for the next seventy-two hours then?" I ask my voice hoarse from all the yelling I had been doing. God I could use a throat candy right at this moment.

He releases my shoulder and walks out of the room, suggesting that I should follow him. "Well there is a small room down the hallway with television and where your other inmates are most likely relaxing, and on your right." He stops just shy to a room where a dozen people are waiting in a lineup for small cups of pills, each one looking more pale-faced and scatterbrained than the last. "Is where you can go if you need a refresher, things can get intense here so if you need to calm down just ask the nurse for your pills for the day; they'll be sure to help you."

He says it such a passive way that I'm only just a little bit fazed when a middle aged man nearly passes out on the ground and is picked up by two nurses. It's at this point that Bryan continues walking in a pace so fast that I have to run a bit just to keep up with him. He shows me a couple more rooms and instructs me on where I'm allowed to go during the day and where I am not. If this is just for seventy-two hours, then I think I can handle it, I'll just have to make sure I do myself in next chance I get.

"I have to have a simple therapy session with you tomorrow at nine in the morning. It's not really as much of a therapy session as it is a checkup so we can let you go, do you understand, Terri?" He says, I nod to him and wave goodbye before walking into the main room with the television. Maybe I'll be able to catch a good show on TV while I'm here, it's not like there's anything else to do.

I walk in, there is a small couch with two recliners on either side of it with a TV planet in the middle and people shoved in so tightly I doubt they can even breathe while watching Ellen dancing on the television, there is a small table in the corner with crayons and paper where five people are seated, a good chunk of the said people in this room look like they are seriously out of it. Like the people you'd see sitting in a corner, not looking anyone and is seemingly unapproachable.

Deciding that sitting on a group couch would be less comfortable than taking the last spare seat at the table I sit beside a woman with brittle light brown hair who looks about fifty and is writing with the crayons.

Is this supposed to be some joke? Why would I be put with these crazy people? I understand that Bryan made it very clear that I would only be here for the next seventy-two hours, but does that really mean I have to be with the crazy lunatics that are only kept here because they are too offensive to put on the street.

Taking in a breath I manage to keep silent, motionless in the hopes that maybe some of these freak's eyesight potential are based on movement. It's when the old lady bothers to look at me when I know my plan has failed. "Suicide attempt, huh?" She says, I finally bother to look at her eyes. They are intense, electric blue with almost yellow specks flickering around in them and shockingly large, like someone had used CGI on them.

I stare at her for a moment. "How did you k-know?" I ask, wondering if she's a creepy obsessive stalker and I should start running right now. She must have seen the fear in my face because she breaks into a cackle like laughter that is as annoying as it is scratchy in the back of her throat.

"Because the ones who are told that this is temporary are always the ones who manage not to break into tears on the first day, plus I can see those 'tattoos' you have on your arm." She gestures to my wrists; I flip them around and place my hands on my lap so that no one else sees that sight. "They'll fade within a few weeks, huns." She says with a southern accent on her words, it seems comforting.

"What if I don't want to be here in a few more weeks?" I ask, knowing that the question has two meanings but doubting she'll understand the real, morbid reasoning behind it. I mean she's just a crazy woman, I seriously doubt logic is a high point for her.

She continues doodling with her crayons. "Tell me, do you know why you have no shoelaces or why we're writing with crayons?"

I give her an odd look; well that was a sudden topic change. "No…I don't." I say, raising an eyebrow to give her a warning that she's absolutely nuts. Oh wait, we're in an insane asylum, of course she knows that.

She smiles at me. "Well, huns, it's because they don't trust us. If you had your shoelaces you would choke yourself with them and if you had your pencils and pens then you would stab them into your neck."

I raise my eyebrows and snort. "I guess you've been here for awhile to figure that out then." I say sarcastically, not really liking the fact that she's adding me together with all these lunatics who would be willing to use a pencil to kill themselves.

She nods calmly (weird, I thought she was going to flip out.) and says. "Twenty five years, I'm what you call a secret keeper. My name is Beth by the way, what is yours?"

"Terri." I respond, though it's not like she'll be needing to remember it for long, I'll be out of here before she overdoses on some generic sleep drug tomorrow.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Terri." She says with a smile so warm, so motherly, that I almost think that she actually cares. I send her back a half hearted attempt at a grin but I fail miserably.

I guess I better just wait my turn until I'm out of this place.

~Chapter end

A/N: This chapter was hard to write, namely because I've never been to an insane asylum (let's hope that I stay out of one) and also because I have to introduce two very important characters in this chapter.

I could have continued this chapter farther, but I figure since the next chapter will hopefully have a lot of plot in it I thought that this could be the adjusting chapter before the plot really kicks in.

There's really not much to say, I wanted to write this chapter so badly and yet I had no idea how to write it, but I figured that I can get adjusted to this. So anyways I hope that you guys enjoy this!

~Shecka


	5. Loneliness

Standards

Chapter five: Loneliness

Surprisingly, after my short conversation with Beth I was actually craving to talk to her more after she went back to her crayon drawing/writing. Maybe I just want to the human attachment that I've been cutting off from myself during the past seven or so months of my life. I couldn't attach myself to Will when the protection (or, as you want to call it, lie) was so severely in place that I couldn't confide in him anymore. Kendra was alright to attach myself to, but I always had to keep it at arms length just in case she said something stupid. You may think I have a lot of friends but to be honest even before this whole pregnancy fiasco I kept much to myself except for the odd friend that would never care if I had died or not. You know; the types that are only there for the good times.

For the next couple of hours I join in with staring at the television, feeling more disconnected from reality than before despite the fact that I was in a room packed full of people, but it's not like I know any of these people so it's virtually the same as being at a huge party with people you just don't know. Sure you might be around people, but that doesn't necessarily mean you know them.

Beth doesn't seem to talk to anyone in the room, even though she has obviously been here a lot longer than me, and it seems like the feeling is mutual. There is an awkward veil of protection that I feel while sitting by her. Like no one wants to screw with her so I'm also safe with her.

There are no windows in her either but there is a light in the middle of the room that keeps the room bright, I don't even know what time it is due to the lack of clock. How could someone live here when they don't even know if it is day or night?

There's an awkward silence in the room where at moments only the sound of some television announcer can be heard in the room, and then at other times one of the crazies can be heard yelling their heads off.

Eventually after mind numbing hours of television there is a voice on a speakerphone that is heard. "Inmates, please return to your cells." A deep voice says. I stand up; well finally I can get away from these whackos.

Walking over to my room (I refuse to call it a cell) a guard locks the door, and suddenly I get hit face first with a cold feeling, and it wasn't from the lack thereof heater in the room. There's a pit in my heart that's been growing, the coldness, the lack of human connection. That's where the cold breeze is coming from, my heart.

I stagger over to the edge of the room; the floor is squishy, like it's a bed in itself. Sitting in the corner I begin to release the odd tear here and there, but I can't seem to release all the emotions that are pent up inside me. The confusion, stress, and melancholy all wants to come out but whenever I think I'm about to break down, well that's when it all deflates from exploding like the world's worst roller coaster.

So for the next few hours (or minutes, time has no meaning in here) I bite my lip, feeling all the emotions but not letting them out until I slowly fall asleep.

It's not like I can tell when it's morning this hellish room, but I assume that it's the morning when Bryan and two muscular men walk in, one of them carries a tray to me with what seems to be a very stereotypical all American breakfast, only difference is that my eating utensils are plastic. Damn these asylum rules, I mean how am I supposed to cut my eggs with a plastic knife?

"Hello, Terri. How are you doing today?" Bryan asks, putting a glass of orange juice and a small pill beside me as I begin to eat. To be honest I'm starving since I haven't eaten in about two days so I am shoveling the food in, feeling the pleasure of fresh food going down my throat and into my stomach.

"I am doing well…what is that pill for?" I ask, staring at the small tablet. It looks like aspirin or some other head medication but I seriously doubt they are giving me something for a headache in an insane asylum.

Bryan smiles at me and answers. "A very light calming tablet, you will be going through a lot today and I just wanted to make sure that you will be relaxed." He then pulls off a smile that, even though he is anything but charming, actually makes him seem like a nice guy; maybe I was wrong about him being an arrogant asshole.

"For when I get out?" I ask, already feeling the taste of freedom on my lips, it's only maybe a few hours away, and this whole episode of my life will be over. It's not like there's anything out there for me but at least I'll be out of this nut house.

"Yes, of course." He nods and passes me the pill, which I take out of his hand and swallow followed by a drink of my orange juice. "Now, once you are done we will have that little review session just so I can say you're clear to go."

Quickly I finish off my breakfast and follow him out of the room, when he offers his hand out I oblige to the favor. Sure, he may be the ugliest man in this place, but at least he doesn't mumble to himself and actually knows how to treat a woman with respect unlike these inmates.

Eventually he leads me down a maze of hallways to a small office with a sofa and a comfortable chair, well since he is a therapist I guess he has to make it seem like he actually does something around here I suppose. "Please, take a seat." He gestures to the sofa as he sits in the chair on the opposing side of the room.

I take my seat, it's uncomfortable and you can tell it's just here for show but still I try to smile and seem pleasant. "So Terri, can you tell me why you did what you did?" He asks, I raise my eyebrow to him in suspicion. "I mean the 'suicide attempt'," he makes air quotes with his hands. "Although let's just say that it was a mistake from one too many drinks, it will sound better."

I nod, leaning on the sofa for support, the calming pills are starting to kick in and I'm feeling just the slightest bit drowsy. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"You know…I've been wondering, why would such a pretty girl like yourself attempt to hurt herself at all." He crosses his legs and looks at me in a way that I do not find professional but since I feel so drowsy I shrug it off, figuring that he's probably just saying that for the laughs that come with it.

"Terri, you have no idea how beautiful you really are." He whispers in a harsh whisper that I can scarcely hear, running a hand through my hair in a tired fashion I manage to speak with a slur in my voice.

"I…I'm aware of it…do you think I could lie down for a bit?" I ask, vision beginning to blur in front of my own eyes.

He walks over to me and sits so close that our legs are hitting each other, but at this point I don't really care. "Please just make yourself comfortable." He insists, placing a hand on my forehead and running the other through my hair, I try to shove him off, but my movements are so slow that I give up half way through.

It's when his hand releases its grasp from my chin to my back when I start getting a bit more concerned.

"Please let me go." I mumble out, trying to get him off of me.

"No."

He says, lowering me onto the couch, for the briefest moment our lips touch. I can't call it a kiss; a kiss is happy, a kiss is romantic, and most importantly a kiss isn't forced. I don't push back, however I do manage to resist him slipping tongue in before he begins planting his lips on my neck, down my body.

I just close my eyes and pray to god that it will be over as I finally fall asleep just before he begins stripping my clothes…

When I wake up I'm in the main room with the other nuts. I'm so tempted to cry, so willing to let my emotions go. However, I bite my lip and shake my head, knowing that showing weakness is the first thing he wants.

My clothes are back on, I know he removed them and also had put them on again. I can feel an uncomfortable pressing on my back where one of my bra straps has been done up wrong. I feel deflowered even though we all know I wasn't a virgin before this happened, it is the idea that this wasn't wanted that makes me feel like something has been stolen from me, something I can't get back.

"Are you okay, Huns?" I look up; Beth is sitting beside me, her eyes showing sympathy. There's no way she can understand what just happened, the only thing she knows is that she's stuck in this hellhole for the rest of her life.

"…No…" I mumble out, trying to resist speaking. Closing my eyes I feel a single tear fall down from my cheek, I refuse to let the rest fall.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulders, quickly I whack it away. I don't want to be touched by anyone. "Don't touch me, Beth." I say, looking back to the table and taking in a sigh. Now I really want to kill myself.

She stares at me for a second before nodding. "Alright, tell me when you want to talk, okay Huns?" Her southern accent has so much care to it that I almost want to break down and cry into her shoulders, but of course I resist that urge.

"Yeah…okay Beth…" I say though my voice seems to be quivering a lot more than I had predicted it would.

The next few hours or so are in solitude, I may not be drugged anymore but everything seems to be blurring, like it's going too slow. Either that or I'm trying to block everything out, repressing it out of my mind.

Eventually I'm sent back into my room, though I can't really remember how I got there, all I know is that I'm sitting in the corner of the room again, no light left in the room besides the hallway lights.

I try crying, but no tears come out. It's like my body is telling me I can't release my emotions that way anymore.

Too much crying…

Too many tears…

Taking in a breath I begin singing, I may not have a perfect voice but I remember when I was in high school that when I was frustrated or depressed if I sang, I'd feel just a bit better, though I doubt that I'll feel any better after that.

"_She's locked up with a spinning wheel  
She can't recall what it was like to feel  
She says, "This room's going to be my grave  
And there's no one who can save me,"  
She sits down to her colored thread  
She knows lovers waking up in their beds  
She says, "How long can I live this way  
Is there no one I can pay to let me go  
'Cause I'm half sick of shadows  
I want to see the sky  
Everyone else can watch as the sun goes down  
So why can't I?_

_And it's raining  
And the stars are falling from the sky  
And the wind  
And the wind I know it's cold  
I've been waiting  
For the day I will surely die  
And it's here  
And it's here for I've been told  
That I'll die before I'm old  
And the wind I know it's cold..."_

_She looks up to the mirrored glass  
She sees a handsome horse and rider pass  
She says, "That man's going to be my death  
'Cause he's all I ever wanted in my life  
And I know he doesn't know my name  
And that all the girls are all the same to him  
But still I've got to get out of this place  
'Cause I don't think I can face another night  
Where I'm half sick of shadows  
And I can't see the sky  
Everyone else can watch as the tide comes in  
So why can't I?"_

I end the song on a sour note, my voice cracks before I finish the song. Slowly I succumb to sleep, hoping that this is just a nightmare, because if it isn't, then this has to be surely hell.

Chapter finished

A/N: WELL FINALLY I GET THIS OUT!

Yes, Terri does sing a song. The song is called Shalott by Emilie Autumn. Look it up on YouTube, it is truly a beautiful song but it's dark. It's about a drowning woman and I feel that it really fits Terri.

Please…PLEASE review. I really need other's opinions on this because I've never written a story on this so I am hoping that you people that read will actually review. The more you guys review the more I want to write.


	6. Abandoned

Standards

Chapter six: Abandoned

Have you ever had the feeling that your life has become just one black hole sucking up any source of happiness you can ever have in your life? That was the feeling I had all night. It wasn't sadness; sadness passes, sadness is fine. This won't pass, this is far beyond any sadness that I have known of. The coldness of any feeling, the numb sensation that has wretched my body makes me feel disconnected, like a puzzle piece that isn't supposed to fit in a world that involves happiness.

I don't even sleep that night; I just stare at the floor, hoping for some movement, hoping for maybe someone to wake me up from this nightmare. Even when my eyes begin to flutter in and out of sleep and things start to blur I force my body to stay awake, knowing that if I fall asleep I'll dream of the things I've repressed, and remember the stuff I'm blocking out from mind's eyes. Bryan's hands on my waist, his lips crashing against mine, every thing that I can remember I want to forget.

It's not like I could kill myself if I wanted to either. I don't even have a shoelace to choke myself or a fork to jab into my neck. If I killed myself at this point it would be a blessing, while before it was just an escape.

At some point I hear the opening of a door; Bryan comes in with the same two men on the side of the door. My eyes squint in the nastiest glare as I look at him with hate. "Why the hell are you here?" I shout at him, my voice daring to crack but the hate manages to cover it up rather nicely.

His ugly lips curl upwards; the pallid look on his skin is only more repulsive after I've seen every inch of it. "Just here to give you the news, Terri." The way he says my name is so gag worthy that I am tempted to slap him. I raise my hand up and prepare to slap him right across the cheek when he grabs my wrist. "Now, now, you don't want to be put on a knock out drug regiment because we both know that I can change that very easily, though if you want to do something I would have no problem doing so because in our last meeting you _revealed _so much." He licks his lips at the word revealed and my skin crawls as his eyes gaze over my body in the most intimate fashion.

"Just tell me the news." I spit out, knowing he has all the control. If this is a chess game he is the all powerful king and I'm just one of his pawns.

He chuckles deeply before speaking once again. "Yes, yes, well you know how this stay was temporary. Well after going to a small get together I have come to the conclusion that your mental status is too uneven for me to release you. So I guess you can have fun here because you're going to be here for awhile now. Farewell Terri, for now." He turns around and walks away from me.

I can't even speak as he exits the room; my lips are parted in shock. I'm stuck in this hellhole now just because of this moronic pervert.

And that's exactly the moment when I stand up and walk out of the room, making my way to the one person who I actually think is decent account here.

Beth.

When I walk up to Beth, I'm shocked to see that she's actually talking to someone else besides me. I guess I shouldn't be so confident that I'm the only one she talks to, she's lived here for a lot longer than me and I'm not all that important at this point. "Um, hi…" I mumble out, taking a seat beside a girl with long, dark and curly brown hair paired with olive green eyes. Obviously she's not an inmate like the rest of us.

"Oh, hello, my name is Jasmine." She says; her voice is a bit deep has a slight accent to it that I can't place. One look at her I can tell she's a beauty queen, her skin is somewhat like creamy coffee and her lips that are both thick but well proportioned speak for themselves. She can't be that old, maybe twenty five at the absolute maximum and judging by her black skinny jeans, bright pink camisole and denim jacket she's completely aware of the fact that she is indeed beautiful.

Looking down at myself, I can see where there is no competition between both of us. "Nice to meet you, my name is Terri." I smile, trying to put on a fake identity that I know won't hold out for more than ten or twenty minutes tops.

"Pleasure to meet you, but I must be going I'm afraid. See you next week Auntie Beth!" Jasmine shakes my hand with a firm grip before standing up and walking away.

"See you, dear!" Beth waves back, but Jasmine has already rushed out, as if she was too freaked out by all the crazies here. Oh, what am I saying? I _am _one of these nut jobs who will never get out. My fate has already been set, and that bastard Bryan has already sealed it with his ugly face. "How are you doing, Huns?" Beth asks, and that's when I finally break down into tears.

"What's wrong?" I see her begin to put my hand on her shoulders, but the moment I flinch back she knows better than to touch me on the shoulder again. "Huns…you can tell me anything…" Beth says, her voice quivering but her eyes expressing kindness.

"N-No…I'm f-fine...so that was your niece?" I mumble out, wanting to at least care about her feelings before exploding onto her. Beth's eyes drift to the door that Jasmine exited out before responding.

"Yep…the only reason why she comes is to make sure I'm alive though." She mumbles out in almost a spiteful tone, her accent taking a break for only a second. I give her a stare before she goes back to her southern motherly caring tone. "But that's no problem to you, Huns, what is wrong?"

For a moment I felt like bursting into tears again like a little crybaby, but I resist the urge to show that kind of weakness, not when Bryan could be watching through cameras or something else that the creep has designed to keep track of me. "It's Bryan…he…he…" I can't get the word out of my lips. Rape. Hard to believe that one fragmented syllable of a word which didn't mean much to me a week ago now can't be wrapped around my mind.

Beth shakes her head. "I know what you are saying…deflowered, right?" Her voice is gruff now, like she had been smoking a pack a day. Also, it's lowered so no one else hears our little conversation in the room. Biting my lip I merely nod, telling her non-verbally to go on for me because I don't know what to say next. "Honey-"

"Don't you dare say it's going to be alright…because it isn't…I'm stuck here with no escape." I manage to say, getting the feeling that she's going to stroke my back and tell me that this is all going to work out. Life isn't like that, just because you want something to happen, doesn't mean it is.

"I wasn't," Beth answers in a slightly stiff voice. "It's not going to be alright. You are perfect right, Terri. It's never alright in here…they make it seem like it is. You're either in here depressed," she gestures to the two of us, trying to say that we are stuck in the same circle of hell here. "Or too drugged up to realize that this isn't home," she then gestures to the small crowd who's watching Regis and Kelly, too far gone to care, too broken to realize that they were brought here against their will. "It's depressing, it really is. The moment you show weakness is the moment they pounce…don't let them break you, Terri. Because the longer you stay in here the more scared they are…"

I shoot her a confused expression. "Why would they be scared? They hold all the cards here and we're just a formality." I say, looking at everyone in the room. They've broken almost everyone here, who is here to say that they've kept their mind. I guess people don't go to insane asylums because they're crazy; they go because no one wants them.

"Because you know their secret, someone has to get out of this place someday, and that's when the doors to this secret, illegal life will be blown open." She speaks like she's a cop on one of those cheesy shows that I used to watch while Will was at work who is about to crack open a big drug blowout. It just seems so hopeless; Beth has been here for years, how does she believe that this will ever end?

"Don't stop believing, Terri. Because the moment you do, they win." Beth stands up and begins walking out of the room. Don't stop believing…that was the song that those kids sang to Will to keep him from being an accountant.

How can you stop believing when you never believed in the first place? How can I hold onto a feeling that died so long ago that it has crusted over in melancholy? Beth sure has, but how can she?

I'm not exactly sure when I started to feel so retracted from society. Some people would say when I was pulled out of it after my suicide attempt, but to be honest I felt disconnected for awhile. I know I have bigger things to worry about, but I'm still holding onto Will. Maybe that explains how that night when I go back into my cell, skipping dinner for the night, and just imagine the gentle caress of his hands on my back, maybe on my arm if I'm lucky to envision it in my mind's eye.

There's nothing dirty or perverse about what I think. The idea of even sleeping with someone that was my husband at this point sounds so…distant from my thoughts. When you've had your body controlled by another for sexual pleasure the idea of gratifying your own desires sounds completely morbid.

The feel of each finger pressing on the skin, the trail of warmth that they leave before disappearing into the numbness that has become my life, it all feels like a life lived by someone else that I'm just seeing. I would try to replicate the sweet sound of his voice, the subtle strength that was hidden behind the caring tones that he always seemed to have. I would give anything, I mean anything, to have that back.

Will isn't my heroic knight anymore, he performed his last act when he saved me from death and sent me to hell. So why do I feel so right when I imagine both of his hands stroking against my shoulders, warming the skin?

Just when I feel comfortable enough to start to create the image of his hands holding onto my waist, trying to protect me, the mental movie goes sour.

Bryan's hands against my waist, forcing me to submit to his sick touch, not caring like Will's gentle hold. Suddenly I gasp and flinch, I'm not sitting with Will, nor am I being violated by Bryan. I'm stuck in this cell, just like I had been before. Except now I can't imagine his touch without the memories flooding my mind.

That was the one thing I was holding onto, the one thing that I knew if I could remember I might be able to make through from this.

Will…come back…just please come back. Protect me, I don't care if I'm not the queen to your kingship, I don't need the ring on my finger that matches yours; I just want my friends, the only person I will ever love, back in my life.

I love you.

Not that you'll ever hear this, my thoughts can't be transferred to your head. But…even if you are with that harlot, if you're happy, then I can at least say I want the best for you, just please tell me how to move on. Tell me what I'm supposed to do so I don't need to imagine your touch and have it skewed to the horrors in my life.

I don't have the strength to sing anything long; I don't even have the strength to sing. So instead I just speak the words.

"_Tell me how am I supposed to live without you  
This is all that I remember before you changed  
You're stuck in the dream with next to nothing  
I'm all alone and nothings what it seems  
Without you next to me."_

Show me the way.

Chapter end.

A/N: You guys have no idea how please I am with how the last scene in this chapter came out. Don't worry, that wasn't the big "Will is coming back" thing I meant. I mean a physical version of him. Please review because I would like your thoughts on Beth, Jasmine, Bryan, and, of course, Terri!

Song used is "Nothing is what it seems" By Saosin. To be honest, I wasn't going to use any songs outside of Emilie Autumn, but my friend sent me some Saosin songs a few months ago and I hadn't listened to this one until tonight while writing it and I realized how well it fit Terri and Will's relationship so I decided to use it. I suggest you listen to it, it's a bit more rock than the last song, but it has heart.

Please review!


	7. Imperfect

Standards

Chapter seven: Imperfect

You never know what it's like to actually be in the asylum until you're forced in. I didn't even comprehend what I would have to go through daily until I realized I was stuck here for better or for (more likely) worse. Maybe it was the glimmer of hope I had to do myself in after I got out of here that made me realize that the paint on the walls was chipping or that the distinct foul scent of mold was infesting the building, either way I fully sense it now and I really wish I could just repress it.

Repress, block, shield. All words that I thought I would never have to use to express my mental status in my life. I'm repressing my emotions; they won't do any good here when there are people screaming for God to come and take them to heaven. I'm blocking my mind from letting me see what happened between Bryan and me; this applies to the repressing status as well, yes I feel like breaking into tears at the memories of his hands slowly kissing my body. No, it's not going to do a damn thing if I start crying about it. Most importantly, I'm shielding myself from any functions that involve anything past living; because in reality if I even attempt to go past that fragile life balance I am sure to fail. Whoever thought that an insane asylum would save a person is mental for the truth is clear to me; people who are admitted to these wretched places aren't here to be cured, they are here to be forgotten.

It's not like I'm the only wrongly accused person here. Although most of the inmates here are borderline impossible to talk to, the ones that I do get a conversation out of become notably more interesting after I hear their story.

Wendy Potter; an African-American woman with emerald green eyes and hair braided tightly into small sections who frequently talks about the cross being stabbed in his chest relentlessly during conversation isn't actually that crazy. After a short conversation during lunch (with paper plates and plastic food utensils, of course) she began to explain that her ex husband was one of those "Vampire" type of people (and I don't mean a sparkle-pire like in one of those ridiculous movies) and frequently cut her up to suck her blood, it explains the stabbed in the chest part. Of course she had no choice but to let him feed off her since he was apparently 'the perfect husband' to her for the first three years of their marriage. However, after the feedings became exceedingly more violent and just an excuse to beat her she stood up against him. When this happened her husband decided to make a 'caring' decision to reveal that the cut marks were apparently long time signs of abuse and insisted that she 'should be taken care of by professionals'. Long story short she hasn't heard anything since two years ago when she was served her divorce papers so her husband could start sucking on his twenty year old victim.

Juliet Walkers; A slightly too cheery redhead with doll like blue eyes and a small figure who begins laughing at random intervals isn't as out of it as people think she is. After a few mistakes and run in with the laws she succumbed to depression in her teenage years which lead to a drug addiction that two of her friends hosted at her house because, according to them, it looked the best. They said they always had her back, but the moment the cops kicked down the door and began searching the rooms for pot they both insisted that she was the head of the operation and began snickering behind her back as the cops dragged her away, resulting in Juliet screaming things like 'it looked nice to you!' multiple times. Needless to say the two friends jumped at the chance to proclaim her as crazy and stuff her away forever and now she repeats the laughter in hopes that it will get her out of here since it was what got her (in her opinion). I guess they weren't great friends then.

I know, their stories seem completely ridiculous and play them as the victim in every circumstance. However, you have you remember that you are only getting one half of the story. I'm sure the people who shoved Juliet and Wendy in here probably have a very different story that plays them as the innocent one in the situation.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Oh great, Juliet has gone into another one of her laughter attacks at breakfast. It's hard to believe that she's just shy of her twenty-first birthday and is going to have to live the rest of her life here with no chance at a cure for her illness. "It was a pretty place, a very pretty place!" She shouts as two men drag her off, kicking and laughing the whole way.

All we do is sigh as she's carried away; Juliet's attacks happen a good three times a week. Apparently whenever she is stressed she uses laughter to cope, at least that's what she told us one morning. "Does she have to keep on doing that?" Wendy asks in a sarcastic tone, attempting to pick up her hash browns with the plastic spoon and shoveling it into her mouth.

"She can't control it, be a bit more caring why don't you?" I say in a very uncaring tone, attempting to eat my bland cereal in piece. I guess you could say that I, Wendy, Juliet, and Beth make a clique; the one that actually knows what the word clique means around here.

"I used to not be able to stop scratching the bloody scabs in hopes that I could lure my ex-husband back so I could kill him. However, do you see me scratching at my flesh and getting it into our food right now?" Wendy asks with an eye roll. She's rather cynical actually. I grin back at her even though the thought of having pieces of skin in my food sounds morbid and just plain wrong.

Beth shrugs and takes another bite of cereal. Over the past two weeks I've been here I've noticed that people don't usually talk to Beth, she blends into the background like a prop to an actor in a play. Not that she minds though. "So since Juliet is going to be out for the next four hours on some sort of vague drug selection that will only knock her out, want to go watch the big O interview J.K Rowling?" Wendy asks, it should be noted that Wendy is an addict to anything with Ophra, Ellen, and just about anything on television. Maybe it's her way to feel like she still belongs to a human world, either way she usually reserves three hours of her day to watch rich talk show hosts give money to people who obviously don't need it.

"Sorry but, I've got something I need to work on today, sweetheart. Tell me what she has to say about it though." Beth says; Beth seems to find it amusing to find nicknames for all of us here. To be honest I don't know that much about her despite she was the first one that I had talked to in here. She isn't the type to go boasting about her back story and I'm not about to ask 'oh hi, why are you in here?' because that would be insanely awkward and not to mention creepy.

"You ought to watch something besides the pictures that go through your head. They get depressing after awhile." Wendy insists just before her hashbrowns fall off of her plastic spoon. "Dammit, why can't we be trusted with actual utensils?" She mumbles to herself in anger.

Beth just lowers her head and continues to eat. For a moment there is a tension that I can't place at the table. It isn't until Wendy begins to speak again that the tension fades away again.

"So I'm guessing you're going to be joining me to watch the interview, Terri?" I'm not exactly sure if there should be a question mark at the end of what Wendy said considering it sounds a lot more like an order than a question to me. Oh well, I guess you can choose that one for yourself.

"What? Oh, sure," I say while feeling slightly disconnected to what is going on in the conversation. I don't know exactly why but for the past few days I have found it increasingly harder to get to sleep. Don't get me wrong, it was already difficult to get to sleep when flashbacks of Bryan terrorized my unconscious mind, but now it seems like I can't even get into a decent sleep before waking up in cold shivers.

"Good, and I wasn't going to take no as an answer if you were wondering." Wendy says, see? I just proved my theory that Wendy doesn't ask for anything, she expects it and is shocked if the words 'no' ever pass through one of her friend's lips. Maybe it's a control thing; I know that I had to force Will to agree with me in order to feel like he wasn't slipping away during our marriage.

"Good to know," I mumble out, biting my lip when I realize there is nothing else I can say at the moment.

Again there is another awkward silence until Wendy gets up. "Well, I'll be at the television, waiting for the interview to come on, see you there, Terri." And no sooner does she say that then her hashbrowns are left to fend for themselves and to become cold as she leaves the room.

"So…what are you planning on doing today?" I ask Beth, curiosity taking the first spot in my mind. Even though I'm probably on three different (illegal) drug medications I still retain my snoopy values and, according to Wendy and Juliet when she isn't laughing like a madman, I'll keep at least the gist of my personality as long as I attempt to keep my sanity here.

"Oh, just stuff, Huns," Beth says, although her voice doesn't have that charming southern chime that it usually carries.

"Like what stuff?"

"Stuff. I've got to go now; I'll talk to you later." Beth is already gone before I can get a word in; biting my lip I realize that I will now have to put my spying skills to the test. I mean, not only what she was totally rude, but she also happened to not answer my question, not in the slightest.

However, Wendy will kill me (and I'm not sure if I mean figuratively or literally with her) if I don't watch her show with her. Weighing out my options it is safer to go with Wendy considering Beth just gave me the cold shoulder considering Wendy actually wants my company.

Even though I know all of this, I don't flinch when I slip out of my seat and begin following Beth down the hallways.

Following Beth is easier than it sounds. Although, considering I don't know what your standard is on following people then I guess that varies. Eventually I manage to keep a good distance from her while still seeing her every turn, this is one of the times where being agile actually helps my cause.

It isn't until I see the 'second level patients' sign lit up at the top of one of the hallways that I actually manage to stop.

I should explain; over a lunch I had last week with Wendy she explained to me that depending on the mental statuses patients could have a different array of privileges in the asylum and it was up to the psychologists to give these privileges. She then went to explain that Beth was at level three while I was at a meager level one and she happened to be on level two. Oh, and I should probably mention that, according to Wendy, the consequences for going to a different level when you don't have the right to go can be…severe. She then prompted to ignore my attempts to ask her what severe consequences there exactly were.

However, why should I stop now? It wouldn't make any sense since I am already that far in to get to another level, so I might as well take the risk. This is the thought that makes me go further into the maze like labyrinth. Even though Bryan only told me there were a couple of rooms in this place, I'm no idiot.

I manage make it to the third turn off of the level two section that I feel a stinging sensation in my neck, I shake my head and walk it off.

Fourth, the sting becomes less of a sharp sensation and more of an itch, like if you were bitten by a bee and a mass of skin was becoming slightly infected by the sensation. My hands begin to claw at my neck to scratch at the feeling.

Fifth, now there is heat growing at the spot I've been scratching at, I feel the skin that I'm clawing at flake off and get under my fingernails. Ugh, how disgusting is that?

Sixth, I had to take a breath in to steady myself from the sharp pain that surrounds my neck down to my shoulder bone and yet I still manage to make it to the next turn off. There is a trickle of blood slipping down my chest.

Seventh, that is when I black out like I've been electrocuted and then burned at the neck.

"Hello Terri," Bryan's voice awakes me. I quickly jolt off the uncomfortable couch that I had been seated at.

"Don't 'hello' me," I glare at him, taking in my surroundings and feeling a cool sensation on my neck, turning down I see that a pasty white cream has been applied upon the skin l had been clawing at. The area surrounding my neck and some of my shoulders looks like it has been sunburned, but other than that it isn't all that gross.

"Be nice, sweetheart. So someone was being a naughty girl and going around the second floor have they?" He says, I don't even bother to look at him. Instead I take in the surroundings to see that we are back in his hellhole torture room, otherwise known as his office to you where I was violated.

"What happened when I was in there?" I ask, not caring how he got the information, and knowing that he most definitely has his ways.

I shift as far away as possible when his hands make a move to my neck. "I'm not about to have sex with someone with such an ugly burn," he insists, but I hold my guard until he drops his hand and chuckles, moving back to his seat. "Remember when you first admitted into here, Terri? Well it is common protocol that a collar is implied in each inmate's neck. You were just feeling the consequences of your actions."

I stroke my neck, feeling a slightly rough spot but not remembering needle marks on my neck or even the pain of having a collar put into my skin. "But what about a surgical scar?" My fingers tread over the spot where the collar had been implied, feeling like it isn't my own neck anymore, my own body. My body wouldn't attack itself.

"We're a bit smarter than you think, Terri. This 'collar' isn't as much of a physical being as it is an injection into your skin along with a small chip. That is what you are feeling on your neck right now." Bryan says, and as soon as he speaks I automatically begin feeling the back of my neck until I manage to feel out a small indent on the back of my neck, scarcely big enough for a dime, but still very much there.

"Well, Terri, I think you have had enough excitement for today, how about you go take a nice bath and then go to bed?" Bryan says with a sweet voice, like we've been friends for years and he was merely suggesting something. I don't even fight his suggestion; I just slowly make my way out of the room.

"Oh, and Terri," I turn around to see Bryan's foul smirk. "I should probably tell you that if you violate your rules more than three times, you'll die from the collar's shocks."

My voice is just as emotionally drained as I am. "People would talk; you can't just kill a human off and not face consequences."

His smirk is still on his lips as he answers.

"Try me, sweetheart."

I walk out, this time without looking back.

I just want to die.

A/N: Finally finished this chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it. It's not my best chapter but the next few chapters should be very exciting.

I hope you guys enjoyed Wendy and Juliet; they should prove to be very interesting characters in the future.

Anyways, I have got to go now, but I have to make note. Please review, I really need input on this sort of stuff.

~Shecka


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